


Keep Resting

by nightsammy



Series: Threesome!Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Schmoop, Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles, idk what else to tag this lmao, sick!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 16:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightsammy/pseuds/nightsammy
Summary: Stiles gets the flu and Sam and Dean take care of him.





	Keep Resting

**Author's Note:**

> 1) This is Unbeta'd. [and written at 5am LMAO SORRY]  
> 2) Ages are a bit different than I guess they would be if this was a canon crossover (because I have a RP with Dean/Stiles, so I use the ages we use there). So Stiles is 20, Dean is 28, which makes Sam 24.  
> 3) English is my second language, so there might be mistakes here and there, but not too bad.  
> 4) Kudos and comments are appreciated and loved.  
> 5) Thanks for reading, you guys are amazing.  
> 6) Chose Teen Rating bc mentions of porn but it's probably okay as Gen too tbh. 
> 
> End note: If people like this there might be more. :)
> 
> Idk why all these start with "Keep" but it's now a thing and I can't change it now lmao.

Stiles is **_dying_**.

 

At least, that’s what it feels like. His whole being is aching, his head is pounding, and he can’t decide if he feels hot or cold. He’s buried under the covers of the king size bed, and the nightstand is filled with pain meds, magazines, a bottle of water, a hot water bottle and some wet washcloths. The washcloth on his forehead has already heated up, even if he just put it on, and he grunts annoyed as he throws it away and grabs another one. Nothing helps, at least not as quickly as Stiles would want it to. 

 

Sam and Dean are out at the moment, so he allows himself to turn on the TV and watch some bad reality TV, because that’s his guilty pleasure. He's quick to turn it off once he hears the Impala pull up outside the motel room though, and pretends to be asleep when they come in. There’s a soft rustling of plastic bags and the door closes slowly behind them. Stiles smiles under the blankets as he hears Sam shush Dean when he accidentally drops something.

 

«Shut up,» Dean hisses back, and Stiles blinks one eye open to peak at them. «'M not asleep.»

 

They both turn to look at him and Dean’s over him in a flash of a second, hand on his forehead and then cheek, feeling his heated skin. He smiles at him, concern still clear in his eyes and the way his brows knit together.

 

«How you feelin’?» he asks him, voice hushed down. Stiles reaches up and grabs Dean’s hand to squeeze it gently.

 

«Can’t complain,» he smiles, before he winces a bit at the throbbing pain in his scull. «Although I really, **_really_** want to.» 

 

Dean snorts a bit at that and leans in to kiss his forehead. He's frowning when he pulls back and his hand is back at his forehead. «You’re burning up.» 

 

Stiles tries to wave him off, to say that it’s fine, he’ll be okay, but Dean isn’t having it. He’s wetting all the washcloths and refills the hot water bottle - Stiles teases him and says he doesn’t understand why he’s supposed to have cold washcloths on his forehead and a heated water bottle under the blankets, that it makes no sense, but Dean only glares at him and does it anyways.

 

«You can probably pop in a few more pain killers,» Dean says with a glance at his phone. Stiles smiles softly at him.

 

«You’re honestly really adorable when you’re all concerned and stuff, but really, I’ll just sleep for a bit.» Dean seems to want to protest, but Stiles only leans up for a kiss and then he pushes him away gently so he can lay down. It takes him a while, but eventually he dozes off into unconsciousness.

 

When he wakes later, he hears the brothers bickering in the kitchen. He can’t tell if it’s the headache that woke him up or their hushed muttering, but it doesn’t really matter. With a quick glance at his phone he realizes he’s been sleeping for at least two hours. He stifles a yawn and sits up a bit, eyes moving back to gaze at Sam and Dean. They’re both in the kitchen, Sam pouring something into a bowl and Dean hovering beside him telling him he forgot something.

 

«Dean, I know damn well how to make chicken soup,» Sam hisses, and Dean only huffs annoyed. 

 

«Are you sure? ‘Cause last time I checked -,» he starts replying, before Stiles interrupts them.

 

«If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were an old married couple,» Stiles mutters sleepily. «What’s going on?»

 

The brothers look at each other before they come over, Dean sitting on the edge of the bed and Sam handing Stiles a bowl of chicken soup. Stiles’ stomach rumbles like on cue, and he laughs a bit. Dean’s rubbing Stiles’ leg through the blankets and Sam hovers over him awkwardly a bit, like he doesn’t know what to do. Stiles scoots over a bit and pats the bed beside him, urging Sam to sit down as well. The sexual, really intimate stuff they’re getting used to - slowly - but casual closeness like this isn’t something they do. Not yet anyways. Usually when Stiles wakes up, Dean’s the only one left in bed. He doesn’t question it, isn’t hurt by it, it’s just not a thing. But it still feels like this thing between them is turning into something more than just the sexual part of it, and maybe they should talk it through - but Stiles doesn’t think they have to. Because he’s okay with it, **_really_** okay with it in fact - and Sam and Dean? Well, Stiles is pretty sure they’ve wanted this kind of thing for years. Since they were teens, jerking off to porn together. 

 

When Sam sits down he knocks their shoulders together and smiles at him. «Thanks for the soup. I’m sure it’s perfect, even though Dean thinks it’s lacking something.» The unsure look on Sam’s face melts away and he grins at Dean, who rolls his eyes. «Whatever. My chicken soup is better.»

 

Stiles gets a mouthful and hums happily as he swallows. «Next time I get sick you can make it.» 

 

They sit in silence for most of the time as Stiles finishes the bowl of soup. He puts the empty bowl on the nightstand and stretches while he’s at it, groaning as his back pops. The silence stretches a bit longer than Stiles is comfortable with and he pulls at the blankets and shifts until he’s in the middle of the bed.

 

«I’m cold and you guys can warm me up,» he says, almost commands it, and they both look at him weirdly, neither of them moving. «C’mon. I’m not talking «sex me up» here, I just need to be close to you.»

 

They both nod - God, they’re so in sync sometimes, Stiles thinks - , and moments later he’s buried under the covers and pressed up against the both of them. Sam feels kind of stiff beside him and he turns to face him, pulling Dean’s arm around his own waist as he simultaneously pulls Sam closer. Their eyes meet and Stiles smiles softly up at him.

 

«I hope you’re not afraid to get sick.» 

 

«I’m not,» Sam replies with a barely-there shake of his head. He must understand what Stiles is getting at, because then his palm is on Stiles’ jaw and their lips press together. Stiles can’t help the gasp that escapes him, and he can feel Dean’s arm around him tightening. 

 

Stiles sighs happily against Sam’s lips, and then he buries his face in his neck and it only takes minutes before he’s asleep, Sam and Dean following suit.


End file.
